


Traditional Wood

by Anannua



Series: Solo Missions [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Anal Fingering, Attempt at Humor, Bottom Uchiha Obito, Detective Tobirama, Dildos, Established Relationship, Gift Fic, Implied Sexual Content, Improper Use of Mokuton, M/M, Male Solo, Masturbation, One Shot, Rare Pairings, Smut, founder's era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:46:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25679830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anannua/pseuds/Anannua
Summary: Obito is faced with a long weekend without his boyfriend, and comes up with an improvised solution that has interesting side effects.
Relationships: Senju Hashirama & Senju Tobirama, Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Obito
Series: Solo Missions [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1858225
Comments: 13
Kudos: 90





	Traditional Wood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Malakia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malakia/gifts).



“What am I supposed to do while you’re away for _weeks_?” Obito asked incredulously. “I don't know anyone else here! _Hashirama_!”

The older man leaned in before Obito could rage harder, dropping a swift kiss to the corner of his younger partner’s outraged mouth. It had the fun effect of making Obito’s scars light up with pink and causing his complaints to completely derail.

Hashirama couldn’t restrain a soft laugh at the sight. Obito looked too cute like this. 

“Think of me,” he suggested kindly, giving Obito’s hand in his a brief squeeze. “I shall do the same every night until I return!”

“How long will that be, exactly?”

“As I said, I am not sure, but I shall return to you with all haste.”

“Promise?”

Hashirama leaned in again to capture those plush lips, humming as Obito pressed back with a quiet sound of muted longing. 

“Promise.” 

With that he let go and left. Obito watched the spot Hashirama had vacated for several moments before flinging himself onto the mattress with a long wail. He knew literally no one else from this time period that wasn’t going off with Hashirama to try and negotiate for peace with the warring clans nearby. All the Uchiha were completely cold to him (for the second fucking time) and none of the villagers wanted anything to do with him either. Only Hashirama and occasionally Tobirama even spoke to him. So what was he supposed to do?!

+

Later that night, Obito found the solution. 

“Cheers!”

No one answered, because Obito was drinking alone, which, actually, wasn’t the saddest state he’d ever been in. That prize still went to accidentally tumbling ass-first backwards through time and space to end up in the past of his own history and falling straight into the Shodaime’s _actual lap_ before falling completely unconscious. The memory still made Obito grumble and bluster, and he took another swig of cherry wine to wash away his thoughts. 

Two bottles later Obito was pleasantly buzzed and completely unconcerned with how he meant to spend his time. Of course Hashirama would be back, eventually, and they could do things that they both enjoyed, like when the older man took comfort in Obito’s bed. 

It was still stunning to think that Hashirama had any interest in him—but after watching how he interacted with Madara, Obito rather understood his partner’s easy acceptance of his arrival. Hashirama had such a big heart. Obito wouldn’t be surprised or even offended if some day the other man showed up with Madara in arm to ask him to join them. 

Obito squinted at the empty wine bottles suspiciously. 

“That’s the last time I pick up _fruit-flavored liquor_ ,” he grumbled. Not-drunk Obito probably wouldn’t be thinking about _Uchiha Madara_ joining them in bed. 

Drunk-Obito, however, had little qualms about it. Drunk-Obito had little qualms about _anything_ in life, especially when it came to Hashirama in bed with him. 

It was already hot, but thinking of Hashirama stripping off his robes, pulling down the fabric to reveal strong shoulders and the thick bands of muscle in both arms, the broad planes of his chest and chiseled abdomen brought heat roaring through Obito’s body. He groaned to realize that of course just thinking about Hashirama got him rearing to go. 

“But, stupid body, guess what? Our boyfriend’s a _billion miles away,_ ” Obito announced to himself with a bitter edge. “No sex for us.”

His erection didn’t seem to flag at the news.

Obito figured at least it was something to do with the night and sighed as he opened his pants. 

Were that his lover wasn’t gone. Obito didn’t mind touching himself but so much better was the older man’s hands on his body, stroking him firmly, graciously, milking lots of lovely sounds from his throat. Obito closed both eyes to imagine it: Hashirama there beside him, half dressed and fully attentive to the lower half of Obito’s body, big hands stroking over his scars and discolored flesh without hesitation, with reverence and wonder, soaking him in and looking absolutely besotted. 

His cock throbbed at the image in his mind. 

If only Hashirama hadn’t needed to leave, he thought, stroking himself alone on his lover’s bed. It could be so sweet. 

His drunken mind took the scenario to its next stages: Hashirama would make him moan sweetly for his touch, legs parted and back arched as he stroked him. Obito had no trouble imagining it as they’d done it just the night before. His body remembered well the path Hashirama’s hands took up and over his muscles, exploring the places that made him twist and gasp with pleasure. 

Tobirama was the studious one but Hashirama had no equal in his study of Obito. He had learned every secret spot that made Obito give up the sweetest sounds for him; Obito chased them now, the places that made him buck his hips and grunt with growing need. 

Gods, he hated doing it himself. 

“Why did you have to go,” he groused, dropping his hand from his dripping cock in dissatisfaction. “It isn’t as good without you.”

Obito was caught up in the play in his mind. Hashirama would laugh, charmed and delighted, and kiss Obito, if he were there. 

_‘Then let me make it good for you,_ ’ he would say, Obito imagined, and then he would push Obito back onto the bed. 

He spreads his thighs for his absent lover on the bed they’d shared before. Obito felt his cheeks grow hotter as he reached down beneath his balls to tease himself. 

The first time Hashirama had touched him there he’d about _Kamui’d_ back to his original time. The second time had been much less unexpected, and Obito had nearly sobbed for how lovely the older man made it feel, and the care he’d taken in opening Obito slowly, over time, bit by bit until his cock slid in _perfectly_. 

Dark eyelashes fluttered open. 

“I’m going to cum just by remembering,” Obito muttered, half amazed.

His dick was rock hard and dripped _everywhere_. 

There was actually enough to slick his finger. Obito breathed in and closed his eyes and touched himself, slowly, gently, as he imagined his lover would. Hashirama always seemed to love this part of sex best. Obito didn’t particularly care for it one way or another, but he did adore how it makes the older man seem to melt into a puddle. 

After he’d stretched, Obito paused. There was nothing to put inside. 

“Fuck.”

But he didn’t give up. He was horny, and he wanted Hashirama, and he’d do his damnedest to have him, even though he was miles away by now. 

He closed his eyes to remember it better—the weight and length, and the girth. He held that picture in his mind and called up his own Mokuton. 

The wood from Hashirama’s bed twisted and turned, producing a twig that engorged until it took exactly the shape Obito envisioned. It was a thick shaft— _literally_ —a passable replica of his boyfriend’s equipment. 

“There,” Obito exclaimed, pleased with his craftsmanship. 

Feeling only a little silly, he took it up to his face to examine. Everything seemed in order. Length, width, dimension, even some veins… perfect. He pressed a kiss to the tip and felt a rush of adrenaline to imagine Hashirama’s face. Here, his lover was always extra sensitive. 

If he were here, Hashirama would of course insist on finishing, taking the next natural step in their love making, but Hashirama was miles away, and Obito had always wanted to do this. He took the replica of his lover’s cock and kissed it over and over again, just the tip, pressing his lips to it with every intention to tease. 

How would Hashirama react? Would he want more? Let Obito suck him? Obito had never asked, since Hashirama never seemed interested, but now he couldn’t stop himself, and he opened his mouth to drag his lips over the wooden erection very slowly. 

He imagined Hashirama’s voice in a long, low groan. How wonderful such a sound might be. Drunk-Obito cherished the thought; he’d have to just try it next time, to see what it would really sound like. 

Obito took as long as he wanted just sucking the fake cock. It wasn’t like anyone was there to rush him. 

His mind filled with images of Hashirama reacting to his attention. How would his face twist when Obito licked the underside of his cock with his tongue? What kind of sounds would he give up to have Obito’s lips wrapped around him just like this? Would he lose control and spend straight onto Obito’s mouth?

The thoughts filled Obito with deviant pleasure to his toes. 

Once he had satisfied himself Obito finally flopped back onto his back and spread his thighs. 

“ _Ah_ …”

The way it sunk it in was _heavenly_.

Obito’s mouth fell open in an ‘O’ of pleasure as the door slammed open. 

+

Tobirama sighed. His annoying brother was acting like his head was up in the clouds. _Again_. 

“If you would focus,” he grumbled, trying his best not to mutter under his breath, though Anija made it terribly difficult. “You’re the Hokage now, the leader of all of us. Have some respect for your own station!”

“Please relax,” Hashirama boomed, laughing and slapping his brother’s back as they made their way side by side down the long road. “It’s several day’s worth of walking to get to where we’re going! Lighten up!”

Tobirama rolled his eyes heavenwards and prayed for patience.

It wasn’t unusual for Anija to be in high spirits. Usually it was the advent of Uchiha Madara that drove his brother’s spirits so, yet as of late, _another_ Uchiha had fallen seemingly out of the sky and into their lives: Uchiha Obito. 

The younger man was an anomaly for sure. Appearing seemingly out of nowhere with obvious Uchiha genes but with abilities _only Anija_ had. It was a curiosity to be sure. Despite Tobirama’s attempts at subtlety, Hashirama had stopped him trying to interrogate their mysterious guest at every turn.

He would have been suspicious of his brother’s motives if it wasn’t obvious from the start that Hashirama was _absolutely smitten_ with the younger man. 

Bearing the fate of younger siblings everywhere Tobirama had watched helplessly as his handsome, clever, strong older brother completely transformed at the arrival of this stranger, falling head-over-heels for the dark-haired Uchiha without warning. Their relationship developed seemingly overnight, and it was a surprise to not a single Senju when Hashirama made it evident less than a week later his intentions were romantic. 

No one dared dissuade him; Anija shone too brightly for anyone to truly dispute the relationship, but skeptics remained. 

In the few months Obito had been there Tobirama found a grudging acceptance of the other man developing. He made Hashirama glow, there was no other word for it. The Mokuton user seemed to gravitate to Obito constantly, and when they weren’t embarrassing themselves by holding hands in public, Tobirama knew they were doing shameful indecencies behind closed doors. 

Tendering semantic exchanges… sharing baths… even going so far as to share quarters! 

It was outrageous. 

_At least,_ Tobirama consoled himself quietly _, they were not engaged in other less scrupulous intimacies._

Not before they were wed, anyhow. 

The thought still caught him off guard—Anija casually throwing around thoughts of _proposing_ to this man, who he felt they barely knew, who came from Kami-knows-where, all within the space of what felt like not nearly enough time! But Anija’s mind was all but made up. 

His older brother meant to marry an Uchiha. 

The thought still made Tobirama’s stomach twist with uncertainty, but not as violently as it had in years before. 

There was peace time, now, the end to wars. The Uchiha had finally moved into the village and there was no more internal conflict for the time being. Though it was rocky, there was a general sense of relief and tranquility.

Everything seemed fine. 

A normal person would relax. 

Tobirama, however, was far from the norm, and he remained vigilant for any signs of disturbances, which is why he was already on guard even before Hashirama’s feet suddenly fell out from under him. 

“Brother—is it an ambush?”

He stood with a blade drawn, sharp eyes scouring the tree tops for enemy ninja, battle-ready. His chakra thrummed just beneath the skin, prepared to teleport them away if necessary. Hashirama beside him shook his head but stayed on the ground. He was clearly shaken. 

Once he was certain they were alone, Tobirama allowed his gaze to drop, searching. Hashirama’s face looked slightly off color. He knelt at once to press the flat of his palm to his brother’s cheek. 

“I am well,” Hashirama said, moving too slowly. Tobirama’s hand landed squarely upon his hot face. 

“You’re warm.”

“It is summer time, after all.”

A blatant lie. Tobirama, completely unused to Hashirama’s untruths, wondered how to proceed. Never before had Hashirama tried to hide something from him, which is why he was so bad at it. Obviously something was going on. To get to the bottom of it, he would need to fool his own brother and observe him more carefully. 

“Very well. Let us continue.”

Hashirama made a quiet sound in his throat. It sounded oddly uncomfortable, yet he did stand up right and continue walking beside his brother. 

Tobirama watched with hawk-like precision as their journey continued. Hashirama’s attempts at covering up his discomfort were fruitless. His cheeks seemed to glow with warmth. His blood ran hot beneath his skin. His legs seemed unsteady; more than once did he appear to wobble, and he very nearly fell flat on his face at one point. It got so obvious that even Hashirama felt obligated to comment on it. 

“It is a rather long walk… perhaps you could get us there a bit faster?”

“That technique is unsuited to such long distance travel where I am unfamiliar with the terrain,” Tobirama deflected, stopping walking all together to stare down his brother. “Something troubles you.”

“Aye,” Hashirama gave up freely, stopping beside Tobirama. His face seemed to slowly take on the shade of ripe red apples. His breathing seemed uneven. Tobirama suspected some chemical agent on the air. 

“I cannot help you if you do not let me,” he murmured. 

His stubborn older brother shook his head.

“I know not how… _ah_!”

Tobirama blinked. 

That was… 

Hashirama’s face was completely red, confirming his suspicion. 

A matching blush threatened to suffuse his own cheeks. 

“You seem… _compromised_ ,” he concluded, hoping for the first time to be incorrect. 

Hashirama nodded, equally mortified at his own condition. 

An awkward silence prevailed. 

How? The question fascinated and unnerved Tobirama. How had his brother come to be, ah, indisposed thusly? Loathe was he to trust in old wive’s tales of bewitching spirits roaming the land though there seemed few other options. And it was no act. Hashirama was well and truly... _hot and bothered,_ by the look of him: the lines of his body seemed to tremble. His condition was worsening by the minute. 

“We shouldn’t be out in the open if you’re… compromised.”

“Right…”

Hashirama went without complaint as Tobirama led them to cover in the trees off the road. As soon as they were in the shade of the trees the Shodaime Hokage grunted and fell to one knee. Alarmed, Tobirama rushed to his side, only for his Anija to hold out one hand, stopping him. 

Frustrated and worried, Tobirama felt his patience wear thin. 

“We must return to the village. We cannot travel like this. In your condition—“

Hashirama’s laughter cut him off. 

“I’m serious!”

“You are correct,” the brunette agreed, his laughter trailing off. “I am sorry. I did not mean to belittle your concern, younger brother. Forgive— _ah_!”

Tobirama gaped. He had never seen his brother in such a state before. It inspired him to action. Ignoring the heat on his own face coming up from the sounds his brother seemed unable to bottle, he grabbed Hashirama by the coat and prepared to teleport. 

“To the hospital?”

“To Obito,” Hashirama corrected. 

Tobirama nearly dropped them. 

\+ 

Both Senju stared openly at the sight before them. Tobirama felt his entire world shift; Hashirama shoved him, with all his strength, and sent him sideways. He landed roughly with a grunt. A loud slam announced that he’d been shut out in the hallway, alone, leaving his brother to deal with…

What exactly had they walked in on?

They’d teleported back to Konohakagure together and it was a simple matter of fleet footwork to transport the both of them to Hashirama’s rooms. But they hadn’t been empty when they arrived. Obito was… was still… there, on his back on the bed, bare as the day he was born, with… something… sticking out from…

Tobirama felt his cheeks go scarlet as the image cropped back up in his traitor brain. 

“Why,” he asked aloud, to his own consternation. “Why in the world would anyone ever _insert_ something—“

“Aaaah!”

The silver-haired man whipped around and stared. 

_No way._

Disbelief on his features, Tobirama walked back towards the door, listening, though he didn’t have to strain. The noises coming from the other side of the door were telling. 

“No way,” he repeated aloud, warring internally whether or not to actually look. 

“Oh, oh! Ah, Ha-hashi-ah, ah, oh fuck! Hashirama!”

Tobirama experienced the most horrific internal struggle within: to leave it well enough alone, or confirm it with his own two eyes, even if it meant... even if it meant looking upon his brother in the... in the throes of passion—

"Oh! Please, just like that, ah, _ah_!"

" _Obito_ ," Hashirama's voice croaked, "Obito, you feel..."

Tobirama felt his face bloom with heat.

_It was so obvious._

He couldn’t believe it. 

It would be perverted to look—

A shout erupted from the other side of the door that made Tobirama jump back as though lightning had run him straight through. 

It was _impossible_ to mistake what was happening behind that door. 

Incredulous, Tobirama turned and excused himself, leaving Hashirama and his lover to their own devices. 

\+ 

After, when Obito had come harder than he’d ever come in his entire adult life, when Hashirama finally came with an enormous cry that seemed to rock the entire room, after they’d both collapsed in a sweaty heap, limbs akimbo, Hashirama had to ask. 

"Earlier, _the most amazing sensation_ overtook my senses! It was as if your hands were upon me, yet you were no where I could see."

Surprised, Obito sat up a bit in the bed. 

"That's pretty weird. What did it feel like?"

Hashirama's face heated gently as he recalled; "Like your mouth was upon me. It felt _incredible_."

Obito's jaw dropped. 

He turned to stare at the piece of wood he'd transformed from the bed.

"Like... this?"

Hashirama opened his mouth to answer when Obito took the strange wooden phallus into his mouth. Without warning his own cock, freshly spent, seared with the most delicious wet heat. He nearly shouted again to feel the rhythm against his sensitive skin. 

Obito made a sound of disbelief around the wood. 

" _How_ are you doing that," his lover asked, voice choked as the sensation of warmth faded; Obito had taken the fake cock from his mouth to stare at it in wonder and amazement. 

"Hashirama," Obito asked. "Did you cut down a tree for your bed frame, or did you... grow it yourself?"

"I grew it," Hashirama admitted, puzzled. "Why do you ask?"

The Uchiha let out a strange little laugh, sounding oddly thrilled. Hashirama had no time to wonder about it as his lover turned to kiss his mouth once again, pressing them both back into the bed. He hummed, pleased to have Obito's full attention once again, and let himself be distracted by Obito's wandering hands. He'd have to ask Obito what was so curious about him growing his own bed frame out of wood with the Mokuton, but in the moment, he closed his eyes and let the familiar scent of Obito's returning arousal wash away any other thoughts in his mind. 


End file.
